Luyện nghe bài hát Family Reunion

[Intro - BH - talking]
Uh oh!
It's that time
It's too long
It's family
We got to school to the game (IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?)
You know what talk to 'em (HUH?)
Let's go (IS WHAT YOU WANT?)

[Joe Budden - talking Killa BH]
Uh
Mic check, mic
Check, one two, one two

[DJ On - talking]
Y'all already know what time it is (y'all know what time it is)
reunion (family reunion)
Ransom (Ransom), (Hitchcock), Fab (Fab), let's go

[Joe Budden - talking behind DJ On
The is out niggaz, uh
Get 'em boy

[Verse 1 -
Ain't nobody tryin to rap or me
I'll be at they crib a couple hammers and a black old AV
Black gonna pay me, get the smack off Baisley
Cause I'm more diesel than Shaq old lady
Boy, you did it, I it, I get it, I punish
The shit that I come separate a rib from a stomach
I'm the boss, I spit it, you love it
Matter fact, I'm a Viking, I need a village to plumage
Yeah, the nigga is here, the city is
You got the throne? Then I I need to sit in your chair
We could really get physical
And the sky's the nigga, I put your whole clique in the air
Baby, so quit playin, the clips spray 'em
And his MIA like Nick Saban
His shit caved in, my whole clique cavemen
Hard bodied nigga, my whole shit
You can't spit if you dead in the
In the woods, where head'll be found
And it's good that you it now, in the precinct confessin it now
I fuck with the rest of you clowns, faggot

[Verse 2 -
High in the silence before the
Park, the Audubon
Slang rock on the same block the water on
I be more than gone, run and get your form
Next time I a song, gon' put my daughter on
she realer than most niggaz
I tote triggers, for you broke niggaz and gold diggers with no
That why I the heater, for all you non-believers
I'm on your ass like white on Rice, I'm
Better con the preacher, you tryin to get on a
Better get your bastard (why?), I'm gon' eat ya
We ain't in the same weight
Your fake ass, couldn't stop a with brake pads
I'm way past, anything that you did
I'm better kid and we sweat a bid
It's to get a cig
In the bing, I'm Ving Rhames, I bring pain
I sling 'caine off the wing like I'm James
doubtin who?
When I spit the whole lead, they be Code Red, like Mountain Dew
'Fore I count to two, you could get back blown (OH!)
Cause chemic's out of minutes like a TracFone (NIGGA!)
Get back homes, I'm on my shit
I mingle, I'm like Pringles, stackin my chips
Clappin my fifth, you the 'test me
Comin out with a "Blade" to get sniped
So the could arrest me, right? It's not happenin
You ain't ever gonna get on, so stop
(H20) this summer, so stop askin
All heat Wall Street, your stock crashin
Now the Feds want to read his
Lord have mercy, Christ, I got passion
I'm and all my niggaz gettin this 'feti
We in the Chevy and ready to pop and (what? OH!)

[Chorus - Joe - w/ ad libs]
So whatever you tryin to do little (niggaz), I already done (done)
And since you want to live by it nigga (nigga), then die by the gun (gun)
See whatever you tryin to do little nigga, I've done (done)
So how the you gon' win little nigga (nigga), I've already won (won)

3 - Fabolous]
Like we do it, d-d-damn
Yes (yes), go (yes), uh huh
Aiyyo, money is the root of all evil I
But when I'm broke is usually when I the evilest thoughts
That's when the arms come out, like sleeves it's short
With more bullets than favorite wide receiver has caught
And that Randy Mossberg, ya Steve & Wesson ya
Your shoes pop up Instant Messenger
You've got mail, naw nigga you got
And my Mac, you can't use for
I've got that, confused that will lie
And my gat is on leg thigh tat
I that nigga, who you
Some broke niggaz who tryin to get youtube views
So 'less you want a point blank, boy you're too
Bail's in pocket, this is Lou Los
I'm pretty sure more hotties seen me in four door ridey
Double pipes like a sawed off shotty,

(IS THIS YOU WANT?)

4 - Joe Budden]
Look, I sickly, ridin, bumpin old Biggie
Roll me or lose weight, Nicole Richie
Fuck plat, if I don't reach diamond
I a nigga's face like the old Simon game
out why men try us
Cause we OD on rims and tires, for that we Len Bias
All it takes is a
He brave, he a punk
I'll put his family in boxes, meet the Bunch
How y'all feel
Should kill yourselves, us Cowboys don't you, you Bill Parcells
And you ain't got to your pockets when the K's out
you holdin is mine, you my PayPal
See I don't get how this guy is a
I make his life for a pie to the neck
Ride or die, if you both nigga, ride to the
I acappella the left side of his chest
Not retirin, still got that pension
Tryin to pop the and see the engine missin
Double shotgun, have your men get missin
She got pretty brown eyes and she in condition
Oh the cig in the car, you en moi
Take the ratchet go and just Chris Benoit
I tell a bird it is, you promise the broad
I one line her (you), you Thomas the broad
I could send a cartridge at a nemesis target
And catch a ROR on Jena 6 charges (naw)
Naw, I'll put thing away
I don't even a whole hairdo to flip 'em, all it take is one finger wave
Been in the bing for days, you how I'm real
Come home to the with the Optimus Prime grill
Handed out crack, got the poppin off
not sleepin on 'em, the fiends is noddin off
For real, tell me how you a thug and you (nigga)
I seen you in the club doin the Superman (nigga)
A bunch of clowns
All I need in this world is the pound chrome, Huxtable brown
Major paper (I mean), by the layers
If these is live, I'm the Creative Player
callin 'em 'Kings' when they so so hot
Something's wrong that picture, must be Photoshop
I don't promote violence, but sparkin the flame - BLAM
Arms wavin like the Carlton Banks dance
When them go pop, it move whole blocks
Come around with your dog and get shot
These MC's is lame, I try to be an MC with
These niggaz is MC
Bein nice, is far from bein nice
I'm on the rooftop recordin, and niggaz is sniped
It's

- w/ ad libs]

[Outro - DJ On - talking - w/ Killa BH ad libs in background]
to the whole BSC (whole BSC)
Shout to my nigga Dru
SlimeBugz, DJ
The Don (The Don), Dre (Dre Bless)
DJ Baby Dru (DJ Dru)
My nigga